


To Yield

by ozsaur



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Finger Fucking, Kink, Kink/Cliche Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-18
Updated: 2010-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsaur/pseuds/ozsaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finger fucking, a bit of D/s. A tiny bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Yield

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for svmadelyn's Kink/Cliche Challenge.

"Talk to me, Rodney."

"Oh, god, how can you expect me to-- Oh, oh, do that again."

John had two fingers in Rodney's ass, sliding them in and out in slow, almost random thrusts that were maddening. He was staring at Rodney, his chest, his cock, his ass; he was entirely focused, his attention never wavering.

Rodney, on the other hand, was going out of his mind. That John wanted him to talk while his brain was a puddle of goo made him want to howl. One of the best things about sex was that he could let his brain go offline for a little while and just feel. But John never made it that easy.

"You like that?" And he did that thing again with his fingers. That thing that made his breath catch in his chest. That thing that made him twist and writhe from the hot sensation spreading from his ass. Without thinking, he reached for his cock, wanting to finish with that delicious feeling cresting over him.

"No, Rodney, not yet," John said, gently pushing his hand away.

"God, John, I can't. I need-- John, I need--"

"I know what you need." His heavy-lidded eyes flicked up to meet Rodney's. "And I'll give it to you. Just relax."

Rodney sputtered, "Relax? You want me to relax? How?"

"Put your hands above your head. Don't touch yourself again, or I'll stop."

"Are you kidding me?!"

It wasn't fair that John looked so composed kneeling there between Rodney's thighs. The only indications that he was as affected by this as Rodney, was the faint flush tinting his throat and chest, and the erection that looked as painful as Rodney's felt.

"Don't you like what I'm doing?" He looked like he was on the verge of pouting.

"Yes, god, yes. Just--"

"Then relax." The intensity was back and Rodney could almost feel the weight of John's gaze sweeping over him, a ghostly sensation that made his nipples prick up into hard, tight points. "And put your hands above your head." His fingers thrust deep. "Now."

Just like that, Rodney's hands went up, scrabbling against the headboard, searching for purchase. But it was too smooth, featureless and there was nothing to hang on to. In desperation, Rodney grabbed the top edge of the mattress and gripped it as hard as he could.

He was completely spread open for John, exposed and vulnerable. That's what John seemed to like more than anything else. He liked blowing Rodney and fucking him or anything else that would put him in the position of watching Rodney fall apart.

"That's good," John whispered, watching his fingers push into Rodney's ass.

John's free hand stroked his hip, his thigh, his belly. Rodney shuddered as that hand touched everywhere but his cock. When they had the time, John loved to tease Rodney, play with his body as if there were some kind of secret he needed to discover.

"How does it feel?"

This was the part Rodney hated. He just wanted to let go, let the pleasure take him. But this was something that John needed and Rodney was helpless to do anything but give it to him.

"Fantastic," he gasped, as John stopped thrusting and started scissoring his fingers instead.

"Keep going."

He groaned, wanting to say something hot and sexy, but he couldn't think of a damn thing. He never could. He couldn't even say what was really on his mind, that he'd be happy to show John what it felt like, but he'd never let those words past his teeth, no matter how much he wanted to.

John would never let Rodney show him how good it could be to willingly yield, to relinquish control. In eighteen months, he had never let Rodney top in any way.

"Please, John."

"You're so tight, Rodney, so hot inside. I want to fuck you."

"Yes, John, yes. I want you to."

Christ, how he wanted John to fuck him. Any other time, the words would fly out of his mouth. He could compose sonnets even. But John was making it impossible to do anything but pant as he worked his fingers in and out of Rodney's ass.

"Tell me what it feels like."

"Good," he choked out. John stared down at his hand, finally establishing a rhythm Rodney could work with. His hips began to roll with the rhythm, and maybe, just maybe he could come like this.

"More. That's not enough, Rodney." John was trying so hard to look calm, but he was breathing hard and his body was sheened with sweat. Rodney watched as a drop slid down from his temple, along his cheek to fall off the edge of his jaw.

The dam broke and words spilled out of his mouth, high and breathless, "John, John, it feels so good. I love having you inside me. I love the way it feels when you fuck me. When you touch me. I want to come and come, but I don't want to because I don't want it to end..." He didn't know what he was saying any more, only that John must have liked the words because his fingers were moving faster, brushing over the sweet spot with each stroke. It didn't matter what he was saying as long as John didn't stop. And he didn't. Instead, he helped things along by cupping Rodney's balls, lifting them up in his free hand while his fingers thrust in hard.

Rodney's heels dug into the mattress as his hips rose up. There was one moment of suspension, of stillness, then he was falling, coming in heavy pulses of pleasure that spun out and out. As his body collapsed down on the bed, John slid his fingers out of Rodney's ass. The sudden emptiness was a shock, but when he felt the nudge of the blunt head of John's cock, he could only tilt his pelvis up to meet the rush of John's thrust.

"Rodney-- God--" His voice cracked.

Urgency made John clumsy as he pushed in. Rodney let go of the mattress, reaching up to grab John's shoulders to steady him. They were body to body, John's face pressed into the crook of his neck, his pained moans almost unbearable to hear. It was always like this when John lost control. He felt no triumph in seeing John so helpless in his need; there was only an aching tenderness that went deeper than his skin, deeper than bone.

He buried his hand in John's hair, nuzzled his temple, licked at the salt sweat. "I've got you," he whispered, cradling John against him. There was no finesse in John's movements, only a driving need to get inside.

All he could do was hold John through it, whisper soft nonsense words as he mindlessly pumped into Rodney's willing body. Every thrust sent aftershocks through him that bordered on pain.

There was a sudden wash of heat inside of him, and John went still. Slowly, very slowly, the muscles under Rodney's hands eased and John let his weight rest on him. Any other person, Rodney would already have pushed them off. But this was John and Rodney always gave him what he needed.

The End


End file.
